Читать книгу Crossed Swords. A Canadian-American Tale of Love and Valor - Mary Wilson Alloway - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHE CURÉ OF LORETTE.
A week of storm, with rain and sleet, and heavy winds from the north, was spent in preparation for crossing the river. Canoes, which had been procured twenty miles away, were carried to the shore, into which, on the first lull of the tempest, all except some two hundred embarked. Favored by the darkness, they crossed within a few cables' length of the Vulture, a British warship, which was stationed to intercept any such attempt; and running into a cove, found safe harborage, and disembarked, five hundred strong. Above them, up the face of the crags, a zigzag goat-track wound to the dizzy steep, which seemed to hang in the air, and up which, fifteen years before, Wolfe and his kilted Scots had dragged their cannon. It was the only way; but where one man had gone, it was plain another could follow; so, although it was so narrow that two could scarcely walk abreast, without hesitation Arnold boldly determined to attempt dashing up it with his ragged, barefooted men; who, with damaged muskets, without artillery and with only five rounds of ammunition, were still as eager as he to fight. Glancing from the remnant of his fine corps to the defiant-looking ramparts, he turned, saying:
"My men lack everything save stout hearts, and it is imperative that Montgomery, advancing on Montreal, should at once be made aware of our present position. Whom think ye, Vanrosfeldt, should I select for this delicate and dangerous errand? It will require not only a stout heart, but a most robust courage, to traverse one hundred and eighty miles of hostile country to carry my despatches. They can be entrusted to no prentice hand, I tell ye; the moment is too critical."
He had scarce finished the words, when Vanrosfeldt replied: "I will be the bearer of this message," and Aaron Burr as promptly added:
"With such chances as there are of detention or accident, I would take share in this venture, and will trust to my native ingenuity and wit to carry us through; for albeit I may be lacking in the traits you name as needful, I will make amends by certain powers of dissimulation and persuasion, which my fair friends have done me the honor to lay to my charge."
Aware that many of the French people of the Province had not yet become reconciled to British rule, and that to the clergy of the Church of Rome it was especially distasteful, Vanrosfeldt laid his plans so that this dissatisfaction should minister to his purpose.
The next day, as the setting sun was gilding the roofs and chimneys of the peaceful little French village of Lorette, which, among its orchards and brown fields, lay a few miles from Quebec, two young priests were seen seeking among the white cabins for that of the curé. Under the lee of the church, whose bell was softly ringing for vespers, they found the humble cottage, and knocking, awaited an answer. In a few moments, a woman in the close-fitting cap, grey homespun skirt and blue chintz apron of the Breton housewife, answered the summons, and asked in French what was wanted; but without waiting for a response, on seeing the clerical habit of those asking admission, she threw the door wide open, saying: "Come in, messieurs," and admitted them into a low-ceiled, severely simple room. Upon the floor, which was scrubbed to a golden hue in extreme cleanliness, were laid strips of the home-made carpet, or catalogne, over the weaving of which the thrifty women of the valley spent the long evenings of the Canadian winter. On the wall hung a carved black crucifix, and beneath it a print of the Mater Dolorosa. Pointing to the wooden chairs, the woman informed the visitors that the curé was at vespers in the church, but would hear the brothers' wishes as soon as the service, which would be short, was over.
Disappearing, she returned with a tray on which were glasses of wine, which she herself had made from the wild grapes which abounded in the neighborhood, saying: "The day has been chilly and Messieurs may be cold," of which she was assured when she observed, that although the open hearth-fire sent out a grateful warmth, the strangers did not uncover their heads, but seemed the rather to desire to keep in the shadow. One walked restlessly to and fro, glancing impatiently at the path which led to the church, and at last, as a tall, black-robed figure appeared coming towards the little wicket, he took a seat furthest from the light.
As the wooden latch was lifted, the strangers saw before them the spare figure and calm, saint-like face of a devotee, a type of the holy fathers who a hundred years before had crossed unknown seas with the story of the Cross. There was, however, nothing of the ascetic in the genial smile and outstretched hand with which he bade his brothers welcome, one of whom replied to his cordial greeting in the French tongue. Beginning to relate some of the simple annals of the village, he paused as he noticed signs of uneasiness in his visitors' bearing, on seeing which the lines of his face settled into an expression of concerned gravity. Shaking his head sadly, he continued:
"Ah, my brothers, we have fallen on troublous times. How fares it in the city? I hear the army of Patriots is already under the walls of Quebec, and another near Montreal, ready to deliver our beloved New France, for which our fathers gave their life-blood, and free her from the foreign chains with which for sixteen years she has been shackled. We pray, I and my people, for their prosperity."
One of his listeners suddenly casting aside his cowl, and rising to his feet, the priest, with astonishment, saw before him, instead of a shaven monk like himself, a handsome soldier, his queue tied with a black riband. Before he could recover from his surprise, Burr, with a smile of engaging sweetness dispelling the assumed sanctimoniousness of his face, heartily grasped the hand of his host, exclaiming joyfully:
"I am Aaron Burr, a soldier in this same army, and would fain have your prayers take the form of action." Unpouching something from the innermost folds of his robe, he continued eagerly:
"Here in my wallet I have advices from Colonel Arnold, who commands this army, to General Montgomery, investing Montreal, which it is of the utmost moment should be delivered without delay."
"Peace be to thee, my brother," exclaimed his listener, and Burr answered in Latin:
"And to thee also, Father."
"How can I be of service in so good a cause?" the curé asked meditatively. After a moment's consideration, his face lighting up, he said, turning to Vanrosfeldt:
"I have it! Ambrose Lafarge, of this village, leaves at sunrise to-morrow, to carry a pastoral letter from the good Abbé at Quebec to the Seminary of St. Sulpice at Montreal, stopping at each religious house on the way. He will give you and your confrère a seat, asking no questions. He loves to talk, and will do more than enough for all three;" adding, with a sigh: "It is true, my brothers, that these English have not been ungenerous to us; they have left us our mother tongue and our religion, for which we cannot but be grateful, but our hearts turn with longing to the flag of our father's land, which we love. We have heard rumors that France too will join in this strife, which, being for freedom, must be right!"
The next day the first rays of light were striking on the roughly-shingled roof and slender spire of the little church, making its windows shine like stars among the leafless trees. The white sunshine touched with a tender grace the time-stained wooden crosses, which marked the graves of the good Pierres, Josephs and Maries who had lived out their simple lives within sound of its bell. The early candlelight shone from the four-paned windows of the log cabins, as a small vehicle with a rough native pony between the shafts, drew up by a path down which the curé and two other priests were coming. The driver, pulling off his cap of muskrat pelt, bowed reverently in respectful silence, as his priest, in a few words, said, pointing to the strangers:
"My good Ambrose, my friends here will bear you company. Like yourself, they are carrying important messages to their superiors in Montreal. A journey, which might otherwise be a wearisome one for you, will now be lightened by good companionship," and lifting his eyes to Heaven, he continued, with arm raised in blessing: "Pax vobiscum," and turning, entered the church, to which a few early worshippers were coming.
When he returned to his dwelling, where his frugal meal was spread, his pious sister, Genevieve, who ranked him in sanctity with the saints Chrysostom and Francis d'Assisi, wondered if some black crime of the confessional was weighing upon his tender heart, that the fish she had broiled with her best skill turned cold, while, with a look of anxiety shading the usual serenity of his face, he sat lost in thought regarding the risk of the venture to which he had, in all good faith and conscience, lent himself.
Following the road, which ran parallel with the river bank, with his horse's head turned westward, the habitant, with the extreme reverence with which his simple-minded class regarded the clergy of his church, was filled with pious elation at being given the honor of having for his companions on the journey the holy brothers, more especially the shorter of the two, whose diligent telling of his beads and zealous reading of prayers seemed worthy of Ignatius Loyola himself. Abashed in the intimate companionship of so much apparent sanctity, his customary volubility and jesting as the village wit and story-teller took refuge in a shamefaced reticence. On the way he assiduously attended to their wants, and consented to find means to carry them across the river, as, from information obtained from the peasantry along the way, they learned that Montgomery had not yet left the banks of the Richelieu, where with his army he was known to be encamped; and where the quondam monks were anxious to join him before he pushed on to the city.
